timing is everything

i feel my eyes narrowing.  i don’t want to be that person. 

this weather makes me angry ontop of everything else. everything is worse when it’s 102 degrees outside. ten days straight. i am an ant trapped under a glass dome with nothing but pretty clouds to contemplate as i’m being baked alive. 102 makes me fucking insane.

i will not narrow my eyes on you. not anymore. it’s a waste of energy. an emotional drain. i will weave these cobwebs, spin them, shine them into something beautiful. {i will do my best to try.}

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you, my friend, have impeccable timing. {that was once said of me after a clarinet solo. when the silence left that nauseating hush when you worry that something went terribly wrong while you had your eyes closed; that is until the applause ruptured and the heat rose to your cheeks in a red stained blush. perfectly timed…that was one of the many things i used to be.}

impeccable timing. what does that mean? that you are in tune, good at getting your groove on? or rather somehow you are woven into the very fabric of the song, how could you not be at one with it when it is just as much a part of you as your own breath?

it’s amazing how quickly a voice can change over the phone. how light my step. how broad my grin. because of you, my friend with impeccable timing who reaches me long distance as i’m fumbling to find shoes and lunchboxes with one arm under the couch searching for the cat and a singing preschooler in the background ready to start his day.

you and i are woven into the same song.  always have been. always will be.  and i take such comfort in that. i tell you this, and i can hear your smile over the phone lines, over the miles, over the years.

you call when i need you most it seems {and i need no one} like you heard the words i sent out into the world just yesterday. and through my smile i will not speak of my horrible terrible no good very bad day {oh, but i will} i will not waste my breath on such negativities when faced with your positivity and care of the soul {oh, but i will.} i will spill myself like a glass jar of jellybeans, shattering to the ground.  and you, somehow, will gather up all the colors of me and make me feel whole again.

you are the polar opposite of him. he that i found fourteen years ago not based on what is considered father material. i didn’t think of such things when i was twenty. and so i don’t want to speak of lies or mistrusts. hard times, bitterness, anger, vomiting of ugliness. {i have restrained until i gagged on my own bile. to what, to spare you the splatter?}

when i face you i’m reminded of light and dark. good and bad. human kindness. all that is right with the world. 

i will someday write of this in a new light, the twist of words. the bending way of light, the spin of vision. a technique, a veiling, that i learned over the years to simply cope and yet still express. and somehow through the disguise, people will possibly read and understand and relate and find themselves not alone in whatever darkness they are feeling.

i will not breath in his negativity as my own. it is not mine to carry. even though it surrounds me and will continue to do so for atleast fourteen years.

fourteen years in either direction. we are at the crossroad. this intersection perfectly symmetrical in time, a nasty spot in the road where the light blinks red on and off and accidents happen and people get bruised. we, right now are in the middle of a twenty-eight year contract. we should get our shit together.

i will instead choose positivity and lightness of breath and hope for man. {all of this from two minutes on the phone. the static of the line leaving voices clear.}

hey beautiful. hey you.